Her Payback
by Alexex
Summary: His eyes stay closed, because he knows that the moment she truly gazes into his eyes, she'll leave. Because his eyes are green, and not teal. How harsh reality is. -Trentney angst.
1. Use

Ha, so yeah. Feeling in the one shot mood, so I'm going to write one before I start updating my actual stories because writer's block is a bitch. Summer is almost here, so when I finish exams I should update more frequently. :)

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><p>She was crying.<p>

Tears mixed with raindrops, pouring down her face.

It was cold and wet, but she trudged on, one location set in her frazzled mind.

She rubs her eyes with the back of her drenched hands, accomplishing nothing; the tears pour on.

Streetlamps flickered overhead, casting dull shadows over her dripping body, her limps losing all feeling due to the frigid water sloshing around in her designer boots. She pulls her blouse around her body more, in a bitter attempt at warmth; it didn't do much.

She reaches her destination, letting out another sob. She shakily scurries up the cement steps, and knocks on his door five times.

He answers the door, wearing nothing but navy blue plaid pajama pants, his raven locks sticking up at odd angles. His green eyes were glazed, seeing as he just rolled out of bed.

It takes a few moments for him to register who she is, and the droplets of water cascading down her hair and body, as his drowsy eyes travel her body.

"Courtney…" he grunts, tiredly, wiping his eyes to try and get rid of some of the sleep in them. "What's wrong?"

Courtney sniffles, wiping her eyes before staring up at his dazed and concerned expression. His eyes were slightly unfocused, yet his brow was knit together in worry.

They lock gazes.

She couldn't speak, fearing that if she did, she'd break down into uncontrollable sobs. Her tear-filled eyes stared deep into his, before her arms were around his neck and her wet lips were pressed fiercely against his. Trent's eyes widened, as her soaked body pressed closely to his, sending shivers down his spine. His eyes fluttered shut before his warm hands found her waist.

They kiss in the rain, at three fourteen in the morning.

Courtney pushes him into his apartment, shutting the door behind them.

Silence. The previous patter of raindrops muting immediately.

Their lips mold together, and she moans into his mouth as he falls back onto the couch, her landing on top of him.

He could tell by the pitch of her moan, the reason why she was here.

Him.

It's always because of _him_.

She strokes and plays with his hair with her left hand, and brushes his cheek with her thumb with her right. Her hands were freezing.

He knew this was all to get back at him. She found him cheating on her, and this was her payback.

Trent groans as she deepens their kiss, her hands searching for the waistband of his pants. His hands leave Courtney's wet locks, and places his hands on hers, helping them find his waistband, their lips never breaking their connection.

And he let's her use him.

Every time.

Because Trent would take anything he could when it came to Courtney.

For that short-lived moment, she was finally his.

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><p>Oh the shame… Kind of. XD So yeah, kind of REALLY confusing, so don't worry if you don't get it. This might be a one shot trilogy, because I'm kind of into intense present tense-ish stories right now.<p>

Please review!


	2. Routine

Second part of the Trilogy. Not much else to say.

Warning: Borderline M.

Enjoy.

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><p>She was gone.<p>

She was always gone by the time he woke up; it was routine.

Sex, sleep, leave; like clockwork.

He stretches out his limbs, shutting his eyes tightly to block out the glaring sun rays.

He takes their blinding rays as payback for the immorality of his actions. He doesn't regret it.

He never does.

Deciding to get up, he grunts and wipes his eyes, scowling at the mess of the bedroom.

_Their _bedroom.

He grumbles as he searches the floor for some boxers and jeans, and blindly grabs a relatively clean shirt; he didn't give a shit either way.

The clock reads 11:26 a.m. She'd be back in five minutes, more or less.

He smirks, running a few fingers through his disheveled black hair, deciding _not _to wash up; he liked the way her glare narrowed and her jaw clenched when she smelled the remnants of…some other girl's perfume. It turned him on.

The familiar sound of her keys slamming into the lock and her abrasive turning of the handle sparks his attention. He walks into the main hall, lazily leaning against the doorframe of the walkway, his smug gaze burning through the wood of the door.

She opens it, eyes narrowed, clothes and hair frazzled. He pays it no mind; the only area he's focused on is her eyes of obsidian fire. They were molten and glazed over, a look of pure loathing etched onto her tanned face.

The door slams behind her. His smirk widens. Her steps turn into stomps as she storms up to him. Her hand draws back, ready to collide with his face.

He grabs her wrist, halting her and bringing her gaze up from his chest, to his eyes. They flickered, and hers narrowed as his smug grin widened.

Seconds turned to minutes, neither daring to break the connection.

And then it happens again.

Fierce, unadulterated passion coursing through their lips; hands traveling everywhere. His hands grip her waist tightly, as hers lace through his shaggy hair and tug roughly.

They liked it rough.

His tongue invades her mouth, and she wrestles back, fighting for dominance; his hands fly up and invade her shirt.

She's still tender from last night, but he doesn't know that, nor care.

She moans as he slams her into the wall, as he nips and sucks on her collarbone hastily. Her eyes flutter before she shoves him back slightly, and attacks his lips as she kisses him deeply.

"I _hate _you…" She growls against his lips, his calloused hands running up and down her sides.

"Tell me something I don't know…" He grunts back; she took the opportunity to lower her hands to his pants. They sneak past the waistband, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

"You're _mine, _bitch…" She hisses, her hands moving tantalizingly slow. The pain and impatience for her to pick up the pace was painted vividly across his handsome face; he ground his hips against hers as her hands showed no sign in going any faster.

"Hurry _up…_" He groans, biting his lower lip in agony. She licks his cheek as her hands quicken their pace unexpectedly, nearly sending him over the edge right then and there.

"_Say it._" She barks.

"I'm yours, Princess… only…_oh_…yours…" he pants, trying to keep his legs steady as she continues to tease him. He growls and kisses her roughly, barely able to maneuver them to the couch as he lifts her shirt over her head.

He was lying.

They both knew it well.

But for that short-lived moment, he was finally hers and _only_ hers.

But only for a moment.

And thus, the routine restarts.

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><p>I feel so dirty… *shudders* The ending could've been better, but whatever. Please review!<p> 


	3. Never

Hopefully this ending will suffice. I don't want it hanging over my head, so might as well write it now. :P

Enjoy!

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><p>She was smiling.<p>

It was rather vicious; the curling of her cracked lips, bruises puffing them out. The power behind her eyes was impressionable.

It always was.

She wets them with a flick of her tongue. His eyes were mesmerized by her actions; the smallest ministrations seemed to leave him hard.

_Anything _she did made him hard.

Fuck.

Her hair splatters over his chest; the silken locks felt soft against the skin, like ripples upon a river.

Drip, drip.

The sweat pouring down his face was normal, as well as the clamminess of his palms. They rested on her bare hipbones, rubbings small circles absentmindedly. Her smoldering eyes fluttered with each stroke, and her lips twitched.

She was so _beautiful…_

He doesn't tell her. But he knows his gaze says it all, though.

She turns so she's laying on him stomach down and rests her chin on his chest, playfully. The tearstains are still there, and shimmer in the moonlight.

They taunt him.

Like a territorial tattoo.

She wasn't his; she never _would _be his.

He shuts his eyes, as he feels her cold fingers clutch his face, her thumbs brushing the cheekbones. His eyes stay closed, because he knows that the moment she truly gazes into his eyes, she'll leave.

Because his are green, and not teal.

How harsh reality is.

"Mmm…" she murmurs, fluttering her lashes and snuggling into his body.

It was torture, but he loved every second of it.

Every second of her.

Masochism was his sin, and he didn't care.

Sinning with her made him feel alive; light, happy, and free.

"Hey…" she whispers, tiredly. His hand shifts to the small of her back; it was warm. She was restless, and her eyes were swimming with insomnia; sacrificing another night's sleep for a night of fun.

A night of him.

"Hi…" he replies, quietly.

Silence quickly ensues, and he quickly regrets replying. Her cold fingers grasp him tighter, before shaking slightly. She draws in a shaky breath and he sighs to himself.

_Three, two…_

"I should go… I…" She sputters out quickly, and he reluctantly opens his eyes frowning at her guilt and remorse ridden face.

She _always _regretted it, and he wanted to hate her for it. He _should _hate her for it; what she does to him.

For using him. For tossing him away. For making him feel this way for her.

But he couldn't.

He just _couldn't_.

Every time he stared into her piercing onyx eyes he knew he wanted nothing more in life than to make her happy. To see her genuinely smile was a rare commodity, so he cherished every moment he was presented with one.

So as she scrambled out of the warmness of his bed sheets, exiting their little bubble of bliss he averted his eyes and braced the sudden coldness that flooded his stature when she unwrapped herself from him.

She dresses quickly and wipes her eyes, before running her fingers through her still damp hair. Her eyes meet his and she quickly looks away shamefully, wrapping her jacket around herself tighter.

Her fists clench at the fabric as she whispers out a haste, "I'm sorry," before she disappears into the night.

Trent involuntarily falls into a dreamless sleep, and wakes up a mere three hours later. It's still dark outside, but he was too distraught to notice.

He rubs his eyes tiredly and slowly trudges to the kitchen to make himself some toast, forgetting that he had no butter, let alone anything else in his pretty much empty fridge.

He always hated mornings, especially the ones where she's gone.

As he waits for his toast to cook, a small slip of paper sparks his attention, and he reaches across the table for it.

Trent's green-eyed gaze flickers over the note before he crumples it in his hand and exits the kitchen, forgetting his toast altogether. He sighs angrily as he grabs his jacket and goes for a long walk instead, to try and clear his hazy mind.

_Dear Trent,_

_Thank you, for everything. I really appreciate it. Duncan and I have finally worked out our problems, and I'm finally…happy! _

_Unfortunately, I don't think our paths will cross again, I'm afraid… Hopefully they will, you're a great friend and I hope that you'll understand that we should leave things at such._

_Yours,_

_-Courtney_

No. She wasn't his.

And Trent hated that she never was, and never would be.

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><p>I am extremely unhappy with this ending, and with myself. I have lost my will to write, and any ideas I once had for any of my fics…gone. -.-<p>

In other news, I will finally have saved up enough money for my own laptop soon, and that will mean speedier updates! Y'know, if I ever think of anything to post.

Hopefully I will, I'm just in a temporary rut right now. :P

I'd really appreciate a review, so please do so! I hope you enjoyed, and I hope I update my other stuff soon!

~Alexex


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